carousel
of random thoughts
carry me
past this place
into our first apartment
our noisy haven
with a date
written
into my notebook
and your eyes seeking mine
for the first time in a decade
I can sleep now
because the story must be told
carousel
of random thoughts
carry me
past this place
into our first apartment
our noisy haven
with a date
written
into my notebook
and your eyes seeking mine
for the first time in a decade
I can sleep now
I won’t apologize
for not being what you imagined
I am not sorry you are sad
it is the only way to get
to green grass and shelter–
to spring
these days
not the metaphysical bit
of the mind off kilter
but the way you did not expect of me
toddling over ice and snow
in fear of falling
no longer dancing lightly up and down steps
my skirt brushing my ankles
daring me to try it
there used to be a heart there
in that hole
with the briers and the mud
her blind spot
his weapon
her head
never knowing
the truth of it
Night has returned
to comfort me
after a decidedly
uncomfortable day
Sweet winter night
offering darkness
for a cloak
and shadow confidants
Keep us close
with every contraction, conjunction, and
each oxford comma, crying out
for life
don’t leave us here
without the ink
isn’t it sweet
gray morning
when the sun comes bursting
making me think of spring
isn’t it a gift
from God
in the middle of sadness
to be so warm
gray sky
toast and eggs
with a side of chickadees
sitting in the gutters
telling jokes
it is not safe here
pummelled by your
slick use of syntax
the prose scrawled
across each window
every reflective lens
obscuring your eyes
the shortest darkest days, our days
we creep, stealing all the moments
velvet. crushing. moments.